


You'll Be In My Heart

by purplelacemoon



Category: Billary - Fandom, Political RPF - US 20th c.
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 16:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplelacemoon/pseuds/purplelacemoon
Summary: Set early February 1979. Bill and Hillary return from the hospital.





	You'll Be In My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> So I often think about Hillary's struggle to conceive, and the theory that she most likely suffered at least one miscarriage before finally having Chelsea, and so I wanted to try and write something which captured a little bit of that stage of their lives. It took me a while because of all the research involved but hopefully I managed to portray it realistically and sensitively. 
> 
> *content warning* deals with the subject of miscarriage 
> 
> (disclaimer ~ title and the lyrics belong to the original songwriter ~ and as always this is 100% fiction)

The front door of the governor’s mansion slammed shut as the couple stepped over the threshold into the entrance foyer and suddenly everything was quiet. The stark contrast was almost deafening after shutting out the noise of the traffic in the street and blur of the hospital, the steady voices of the nurses, the frantic bleeping of the machines and Hillary’s own cries of pain and then loss. Replaced now with silence. A silence Hillary couldn’t decide whether she welcomed or not.  
  
She had previously noted on different occasions that the house always felt strangely different to her afterwards. The sense of before and after had always been something she was acutely aware of. ‘Before’ always felt like such a dream; blissful, untouchable, but doomed even still as she reflected back on it in hindsight. Doomed to creep ever closer to the teetering edge of ‘after’ and inevitably fall into it. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.  
  
The mansion felt just a little more like a house and a little less like a home. It reminded Hillary of when they had first moved in and the house didn't quite feel theirs yet. The atmosphere hung differently and the rooms seemed quieter, emptier. The empty nest that in times like this seemed as though it might always be empty.  
  
“I need to take a shower.” Hillary’s voice finally cut through the silence so softly yet so loudly as the only sound in the room, piercing and echoing and lonely all at once. Bill looked over at her but she wasn’t looking at him, her gaze firmly fixed ahead and he knew she wasn’t ready to turn to him yet. But in time she would. She always did.  
  
“Do you want me to come with you?” He asked, already knowing she would say no but offering all the same. Always reminding her that he was there for her whenever she needed him. Whenever she allowed herself to need him.  
  
“No.” She shook her head, determined. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
He watched her go as she climbed the stairs, clinging on to the banister and dragging the painful weight of her aching and empty body with every step. Once she was out of sight Bill set the hospital bag down with a heavy exhale and slowly began to unpack it, the methodical task providing him with at least some sense of normality, if only for a moment as he focused diligently on returning each item back to its usual spot in the house. Blankets and clothes into the laundry basket, water bottles into the sink, books back onto the shelves. Everything back in it’s place yet nothing the way it was.  
  
Upstairs, Hillary had stripped herself down and stepped under the hot steady stream of the shower, letting the water cascade over her as she tried to wash away the lingering clinical sense of the hospital. She didn’t want that part of this infiltrating her precious memories, reminding her how it ended. How it had always ended.  
  
She had been further along this time, further along than she’d ever been in fact and part of her had felt so sure. Felt so much _hope._  
  
9 weeks. According to one of the many books she’d been reading their baby was the size of a green olive. Developing its very own distinct facial features as a tiny nose, a tiny mouth, and tiny ears all began to take shape and hands and feet started to form. Hillary brought her own hand up to her face now, picturing the size of a single green olive resting in her palm. So incredibly small and so incredibly fragile that she felt her heart break all over again as her vision blurred and she held her hand to her heart.  
  
The salt of her tears mingled with the hot water as it poured down over her, encapsulating her in the safety of its comforting warmth. She ran shampoo through her hair, inhaling the sweet familiar smell of peaches and vanilla as she closed her stinging eyes and allowed the scent to flood her senses, soothing her. As much as were possible.  
  
She didn’t know how much time had passed when she finally rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. She slipped one of Bill’s t-shirts over her head without bothering to dry off, the oversized garment swamping her as it clung to her wet body. She dragged a towel briefly through her dripping chestnut locks falling against her shoulders but it barely made a difference. Not that she noticed. Wet hair splayed across her back and quickly soaked through the fabric of the shirt as she stepped out of the ensuite and into the master bedroom, the cool air hitting her as she left behind the steamed up temperature of the bathroom. She crossed the floor and slid open the top drawer of her closet to fetch some underwear and a sanitary towel. The bleeding had definitely slowed, but she knew from experience it would likely be quite a few more long days before it stopped completely.  
  
She turned around wearily, fully intending to crawl straight in to bed when something on top of her dressing table caught her eye and tugged unbearably at her heart: two tiny little baby booties sat there beside the vanity mirror, knitted in sunshine yellow wool with a brown button sewn onto each side. A distressed gasp escaped Hillary's lips and she walked slowly over to carefully pick them up. They were so small they fit neatly into the palm of her hand and she held them close to her heart, fresh tears spilling from her eyes all over again.  
  
A moment passed as she collected herself before quietly walking back to the closet. She knelt down onto the floor and this time opened a different drawer, shifting a few things around until she found and pulled out a shoebox which was tucked away at the very back. She lifted the lid and her breath caught in her throat as she peered inside at the lonely contents; two positive pregnancy tests, two other pairs of little boots, one beige and one white, and then a card she had written to Bill to break the happy news to him the very first time, tied with a pink and blue ribbon.  
  
Hillary let out a helpless sigh as she ran her finger over the delicate knitted pattern of the white and beige boots, still clutching the yellow ones close to her chest. Like the others, Bill had bought the yellow boots to her as a gift a few weeks after she had told him they were expecting, a tradition that he had never been able to bring himself to break. Each time he had presented her with the carefully wrapped gift she would always tell him it was too soon, too uncertain, that there was too much that could still go wrong and that they should wait, but he had never been able to resist. He had picked out this particular pair on his way home one night after a long meeting out of town. _“Yellow like joy for our pride and joy”_ he had whispered so earnestly, his eyes shining. She would always remember the elated expression on his face, his smile the epitome of love and happiness and hope. Always so much hope. And for a while she would feel it too, allow herself to get swept away in his brimming excitement, the feeling that this was it - that this time it was meant to be.  
  
He never expressed it in so many words of course, but she could read him all too well, see it all reflected in his eyes so bright and so blue, the oceans of hope stretched out in endless waves in front of them, lapping up to her shore.

But then she had always disappointed him. Her body was never strong enough and for the first time, she was starting to wonder about the possibility that perhaps it never would be. That maybe “this time” might just never be on the cards for them.  
  
A hollow sob broke through the room and it took a moment for her to register that it came from herself. Less than a minute passed before Bill was in the doorway, having heard her cries he instantly dropped down to the floor to cradle her, whispering sweet comforting words into her ear and stroking her still very wet hair.  
  
He rocked her back and forth as she cried, tears soaking through his shirt as she hid her head against his chest and clung tightly to the fabric, wanting him as close as possible. He fought against his own tears, not wanting to crumble in front of her. For so much of their relationship she had always been the strong one for him, lifting his spirits and building him back up again when he was down. Now he was determined that it was his turn to be strong for her. So he did his best to push his own feelings aside, neglecting and suppressing them deep below the surface in order to fully give himself to supporting her. Ever the man of hope, he of all people needed to show her that everything was going to be okay.     
  
“Why can’t I keep them safe?” Her voice suddenly slipped out as barely a whisper through her sobs. “Why can’t my body keep them safe?”  
  
If it hadn’t already, Bill felt sure his heart would well and truly shatter at the sheer devastation of her words, desperately voicing the question he knew neither of them could answer. He held onto her a little tighter as he choked back his own tears before finally pulling her out of his embrace to look up at him.  
  
“This isn’t your fault Hillary, do you hear me?” His voice was soft and pleading as he cupped her cheek and gazed earnestly into her lost blue eyes, swimming with so much pain and confusion. “I need you to know that so much my love, and I need you to know I could never blame you and you must never for one single second blame yourself.”  
  
She didn’t say anything back. But she didn’t need to. As their eyes connected they exchanged a look worth more than any words could ever say before she settled herself back against him, grateful of the warm comfort of his arms wrapped around her.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
“I love you too, my precious girl.” He cradled her gently. “We’re going to get through this together.”  
  
They stayed just as they were for a little while longer, curled up on the floor and enveloped in each others embrace until Bill felt Hillary shiver slightly, even though her skin was still hot to the touch.  
  
“Come on,” he propped her up a little and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, “Let’s dry you off and get you somewhere more comfortable. I’ve made you up a hot water bottle downstairs to help ease the pain until you can take some more painkillers.” He climbed to his feet and held out his arm to help her up but she didn’t move from her spot on the floor.    
  
“Can you just give me a minute?” She whispered. Bill followed her distant gaze back down to the box and nodded in understanding.  
  
“I’ll be right downstairs okay?”  
  
He let his hand slip from hers as he crept out of the room leaving her in peace. She sat cross legged on the carpet in silence for a while, eyes closed, one hand resting on her stomach and the other still clutching tightly to the little yellow boots. Raising them to her lips she kissed them softly, trying her utmost to pour from her body every single ounce of love she felt to the now only remaining connection she had to the part of her she had lost. The part of her and him.  
  
“I’m so sorry, little one.”  
  
When she finally felt ready to, she placed the yellow boots neatly in the box with the others, each lined up telling it’s own story and it’s own loss. Then she replaced the lid and pushed it back safely into the drawer, closing it softly. Tucked away out of sight, but always remembered and always always cherished.  
  
_This bond between us can’t be broken_  
_I will be here_  
_Don’t you cry_  
  
_Because you’ll be in my heart_  
_Yes you’ll be in my heart_  
  
_From this day on_  
_Now and forevermore_  
_You’ll be in my heart_  
  



End file.
